


Latter Days 3

by LadyZeppelin1111 (QueenBoudica1770)



Series: Latter Days [4]
Category: Jimmy Page - Fandom, Led Zeppelin, Real Person Fiction, Robert Plant - Fandom, Rock Music RPF
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Child Loss, Established Relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Growing Old, Growing Old Together, Heterosexual Sex, Heterosexuality, Humor, LGBTQ Themes, Latter Days - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Magic Spell, Male Homosexuality, Minor Character Death, Miscarriage, More tags to follow, Multi, Nonmonogamous Relationship, North Africa, Older Characters, Older Man/Younger Woman, Other, Polyamory, Pregnancy, Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Tuareg, You Have Been Warned, himba, old rock stars in love, page/plant, the Himba, unledded
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26142019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoudica1770/pseuds/LadyZeppelin1111
Summary: It's old rock stars in love, back again for more!Scarlett, Robert, and Jimmy in their poly glory, but tragedy strikes. A tragedy all too familiar to one of the partners, unfortunately. This also ties in with the super metaphysical extravaganza of mine, The Soul Remains the Same.True to Latter Days precedent there will be more stories from the glory days, but there'll be grief, loss, etc, so you've been warned.But we get to see Robert playing Grand Theft Auto in the streets of London, so there's that.Also magic fills the air!
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant, Scarlett Sabet/Robert Plant/Jimmy Page
Series: Latter Days [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812736
Comments: 16
Kudos: 8





	1. Hopes Dashed

**Author's Note:**

> Much much loss and tragedy ahead, and drama. Sorry :(. 
> 
> It won't all be like this, but there'll be surprises both good and bad as the story progresses.
> 
> This is set some months before Happy Berfday, kinda sets more things up.

Latter Days 3

1

Recap from last time (Latter Days 2)…  
The trio spent a few weeks at Robert’s farmhouse, enjoying the quiet and the countryside. As the days passed, Scarlett grew moody and withdrawn, making the two men wonder what could be wrong.

One day after she had exited the shower, and found the two long time lovers in the den. Jimmy was updating his social media on his smartphone while Robert, with cute reading glasses, was perusing a book about King Arthur.

“Jimmy, Robert, can I, um, talk to you?”

“Hmm?” both went absentmindedly.

“I want a baby,” she announced.

Jimmy dropped his smartphone as he looked up at her, while Robert nearly choked on his tea, the book clattering to the floor.

“Have you noticed what old men we are? We have children older than you,” Jimmy declared.

Robert just stared at her like she’d grown a third head.

“You’re not too old to make a child,” she hissed.

“Dear one, I don’t want to upset you,” Jimmy began, but she cut him off.

“I may be pregnant.”

Robert slid out of his chair and his large body made an undignified thumping sound as it hit the floor like a sack of bricks. He was out.

Tower House  
It turns out Scarlett was indeed pregnant, and both men wondered which one was the culprit. Robert didn’t take to the idea very well at first, as he had grown grandchildren now, but as the weeks passed warmed to the idea. Jimmy was mostly numb and introspective, not upset, just sort of in a fog. Both guys worried over their mutual wife, enjoying being able to take care of a pregnant mate without having to go on a long tour or work feverishly on an album.

Jimmy had been working on songs here and there in his home studio with the intent of releasing it eventually, but it wasn’t something that had to be done immediately. Robert popped in to write lyrics occasionally with the admonition this wasn’t a Zeppelin project or even a Page/Plant one.

Jimmy would just smile to himself.

Scarlett was on cloud nine, she literally floated everywhere she went, and she began to think about names and fixing up one of the rooms at Tower House as a nursery. She was measuring room dimensions while Jimmy and Robert shook their heads and went out to the back garden, which had sort of become a tradition for them, to breathe in the autumn evening air, hand in hand, and let all the years fall away from them.

Threading through the herbs and flowers and vegetables was like walking down the carefully tended rows of crops at Jennings Farm, so many decades ago when they were young and seemingly masters of the universe. 

And they were so in love. They were still in love, but it was now tempered with age, experience, shared pain.

Jimmy sighed.

The singer squeezed the fine-boned hand of the guitarist’s and asked, “Feeling overwhelmed?”

“A little, maybe. Maybe this is a second chance, to get the whole fatherhood thing right this time.”

“I was thinking of that myself,” the taller man spoke softly. “Hopefully it’ll turn out a beautiful golden-haired child gifted with song and a winning personality.”

“Oh come on, it’s gonna be an adorable dark-haired elf child with loads of musical talent,” Jimmy joked back.

“Or maybe it’ll be a red-haired poet with eyes of fire,” piped up Scarlett’s voice behind them. They turned to her to find her smiling.

“Then we would be proud of him or her,” Robert said to that.

Scarlett smiled again and started to step toward her husbands, but her hands went to her abdomen. She stiffened, cried out, fell against Robert who caught her. Jimmy rushed to her other side to grasp her arm and found her whole body tense. “What is it?” he asked her, his broad face full of worry.

“Something—something’s wrong. Ohhh! The baby!” she gasped out and spasmed again.

“No no no no!” Robert groaned. “We gotta get her to hospital. NOW.”

They bundled her into Robert’s car, Jimmy having climbed into the back seat with the poet who was screaming in agony and clutching her stomach.

“We might should’ve phoned for an ambulance,” the guitarist spoke up, wincing as the woman was squeezing his delicate hand, hoping the bones in his hand and fingers didn’t give out from the force she was applying.

“No time for that! Hazard lights on, we’re cleavin’ a path, motherfuckers!”

For someone who’d never played Grand Theft Auto, Robert did put forth a herculean effort and broke pretty much every traffic law ever. Jimmy grabbed his cell to dial the hospital and let them know what was going on and they’re on their way.

“Rob, Rob, there’s blood, Oh God!” Jimmy was sobbing. “Scarlett, oh, please hang in there, my sweet girl…”

“We’re there, we’re there,” the singer assured them, coming to a burning, smoking, screeching halt in front of the emergency entrance. Aides who’d been standing by helped the panting Scarlett to a wheelchair and rolled her quickly inside. The lion-maned singer half-carried his husband to the waiting room, where he was trembling uncontrollably, a faraway, blank look on his face. After some time he snuggled into the warmth and comfort of his companion, who held him close, both ignoring the curious, bewildered, or disapproving looks from others there.

“Robert, what if we lose the baby? Lose her?” wondered Jimmy, finally speaking after the long stretch of silence.

“Don’t think about that,” Robert responded. “We gotta hope for the best.”

The wizard fell quiet for a moment again. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, Jimmurs, always,” murmured the younger man, then kissed Jimmy’s temple.

At last a doctor came to talk to them, informed them Scarlett was all right and in stable condition now despite losing a lot of blood. The fetus was not so lucky—she’d had a miscarriage at barely three months along. She had barely started showing at this point.

All color drained from Robert’s face, then his knees buckled. His lover tried to hold onto him but wasn’t strong enough, was only able to soften the impact as the larger man hit the linoleum. “Robert, Rob! Stay with me, she needs us! Planty, you get up!” was Jimmy’s insistent voice cutting through the fog enveloping his brain. 

Robert didn’t know anything for a good while.

The singer opened bleary eyes and found himself in a hospital room, clothed from the waist down but with a hospital gown thrown over him, an IV with fluids hooked into his arm. He found he was alone, and was confused…what was going on? Had he been sick? Where was everyone? Then it began to come back to him. Scarlett. She’d lost the baby.

His child. Months before he would've ever gotten to hold him or her. It didn’t matter if he’d contributed DNA to the baby or not, it was a child with two of the people he loved more than anything on this earth. He and Jimmy would’ve loved that little one.

He’d lost another child. How can someone go through that again? A parent having buried one child, now must mourn the loss of one that hadn’t had a chance to draw breath. Why, oh, why?

Angrily he jerked the IV from his arm and slid off the hospital bed. The gown he let fall to the floor, and he took a step, swaying unsteadily but somehow staying on his feet. How weak can he be, to not be there for his spouses in their time of need? What a piece of shit he must be, a horrible person. He made his way out of the room, his head spinning, and despite protests from the nurse at the nurses’ station she told him where to find Scarlett. He somehow reached the room, to find nurses and Jimmy with Scarlett, who was laying with her eyes half-closed from the painkillers she’d been given.

“J-jimmy,” croaked Robert. 

Jimmy’s head snapped up, and he was on his feet and holding up Robert in a split second. “This hit you hard, love. You should’ve stayed in bed.”

“Fucking nonsense,” scoffed the singer. “I should be here with my loves. My darling loves,” he sobbed.

“Issat Robert?” Scarlett slurred, having stirred at Robert’s voice. “Robert lovey?”

“It’s me, it’s me,” he went to the bedside and bent over the frail, tired body that had just been through so much. “I’m so glad, the doctor says you’re gonna be ok.”

Tears welled up in those huge hazel eyes. “I lost the baby. What I wanted so badly, is gone. I’m sorry, Robert, so sorry…”

“Shhh, you did nothing wrong, dear,” Robert crooned to her. “My dear girl, sweet Scarlett.”


	2. Out of My life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scarlett makes a painful choice, leaving Robert and Jimmy in the aftermath.

Latter Days 3

2

When she returned home to her partners, Scarlett was pale and drawn, a shadow of her normal fiery self. Jimmy had his hands full dealing with the loss and having two spouses that were wracked with grief. Robert sometimes pulled himself from his own downward spiral long enough to comfort Scarlett when she was at her lowest.

This was strange for Jimmy, as Robert functioned as their rock and humanity and sanity, and now the guitarist had had to step up to the role. He vowed, this time would be different. There were no drugs, no jealous family members, no small children to worry about, no relentless touring schedule—he would be there for Robert and Scarlett, no matter what. He wasn’t a natural nurturer, unfortunately, but his love and persistence got the trio through the roughest part.

Weeks had passed, the poet’s bird-boned body healed, but her soul, sadly enough, hadn’t. Robert got the idea they should take a holiday to Morocco, Jimmy and Robert’s favorite place to go, with the singer hoping a change of scenery would do the stricken woman good. The new locale did engross Scarlett to a degree, she loved listening to the local musicians and talking with the shamans and oral historians of the region. Robert and Jimmy delighted in her reactions to the new experiences, hoping this would blunt the trauma and pain they’d all suffered.

One night they drank absinthe and smoked hashish, the boys reliving days of old when magic filled the air, enjoying one another’s company. For the first time in a long time Scarlett wanted her husbands, and they wasted no time retiring to their fancy hotel room to tear one another’s clothes off. She clung to Robert, seeming to be drawn in their mutual pain, and before long she was riding him, but Jimmy needed her too. 

The guitarist found himself behind her, cupping her breasts, still a little fuller from her pregnancy, kissing her neck and shoulders. They were all in the throes of long-denied passion and substances. Somehow Jimmy was penetrating her asshole while she was fucking Robert, all of them moving with the rhythm of life and desire, all of them crying out at different times with their pleasure. It was almost a dream, like Jimmy was watching from afar, but still able to feel what this was doing to his body, that body that had seen so many decades of decadence and abuse but also joy and love.

Hours later Jimmy woke momentarily to find himself in a love knot, arms and legs entwined with Scarlett and Robert who were both sleeping peacefully, their bodies covered in a sheen of sweat and other juices from all three of them. He snuggled closer to Scarlett, protective, yet not aggressively possessive, just aware of the fact she could be so vulnerable despite her sharp tongue and strong will. Perhaps things would return to a semblance of normalcy, he thought sleepily, as he drifted back off to the land of dreams, perhaps they could all move forward together, as they all seemed to share the same fate, twined together.

Early that morning Scarlett opened her eyes, her mind fairly clear now.

She felt so warmed and loved with the two men’s arms around her, their hair mingled together, silver and red and greying blond spilling over the soft, embroidered pillows. Then other thoughts began to intrude.

The two aging rock stars belonged together, that’s for certain, but she had intruded upon that simpler arrangement, she’d brought more love, yes…but she’d brought uncertainty and pain and torment. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant and miscarried the baby, she wouldn’t have wounded them so. Especially Robert. She felt so guilty for him having to mourn another offspring, it was all her fault. Things would be so much better for the old rock stars, who deserved to spend retirement peacefully and lovingly, if she weren’t around. Together.

Without her. She was the third wheel, she thought, though the others didn’t feel that way. She was young, vibrant, sure, but she’d brought a black cloud upon them that the pair didn’t deserve. They were true love personified. Who was she to meddle with that? There was only one thing to do; bow out gracefully and let them live out their golden years together, as it should be. So she carefully got up, not disturbing the older men from their rest, dressed, and booked a flight back to the UK. She contacted her author friend Tim Burke to arrange her settling back in at her old flat uptown London, and he was sympathetic to her plight.

And that’s how she slipped out of their lives, leaving them confused and sad and worried for her. Jimmy called her constantly until she finally answered and confirmed she was all right.

Robert cried. He wept for the child he could’ve had and the love that had also left him as quickly as she came into his life.

Come into my life. Here where nothing matters.

Jimmy, at his wit’s end, took too many of Robert’s pain pills, that were intended for the arthritis afflicting his leg and hip from the car accident years ago.

Robert performed cpr on the guitarist until he came to, then slapped him into next Tuesday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will get better, I promise!
> 
> Story time will happen again soon. I know you guys love story time hour. lol.


	3. It's Story Tine Hour!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert and Jinmy try to pick up the pieces and go through some memories of when they played together in the 90s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page/Plant era M/M sexxytimes
> 
> Scary Berber women.
> 
> Talk and songs from a gentle race
> 
> Sorry it took a while, had some issues and my birthday was the 28th! All the best people are born in August hahaha!

Latter Days 3

3

Amid the Atlas Mountains  
Jimmy declared he wanted to finish out the holiday despite Scarlett's departure and his swollen face courtesy of Robert's ire. The thought of returning home without the meat in their rock star sandwich didn't appeal to him much, he thought. The pair found themselves in one of the little way-stops along the road through the mountains, sitting in with Gnawa street musicians again, which did help take their minds off their pain and trauma. They were joined by some Berber women who added their aggressive, staccato rhythms to the already unique mix. After some time the old, tired Westerners ceased playing in favor of resting, with Robert leaning against his husband. Night was falling, the sun slipping behind the jagged mountains, and fires were being lit, just as humans had been doing in defiance of the darkness for the past half a million years.

"Reminds me of the Page/Plant tour," Jimmy said softly as they watched the others continue to play. Some of the young people had begun dancing, clapping and stomping in time with the sounds.

"Mmm," Robert grunted his agreement. He threaded his fingers through the delicate digits of the guitarist, knowing no one here cared that two long-haired 70 something year old men were holding hands and cuddling each other as they enjoyed the music being played. "I remember it being almost as a honeymoon. Like getting to know one another all over again."

Jimmy chuckled. "Except we were now experienced, mature kings, not cocky little princes anymore."

Marrakech, 1994  
After the initial fireworks as Robert made his displeasure about the Other Guy Incident < see my short work Unledded > known, the pair was just as inseparable and loving as they'd ever been. They set up in a square and attracted the interest of a small group of Gnawa musicians, who settled in with the Westerners to feel each other out. After some time, a few Berber women appeared, mostly bearing traditional drums such as the bendir and tabl, and asked to join. 

Robert and Jimmy were quite happy to add them to the mix, but the peaceful Gnawa players seemed a bit uncomfortable with the aggressive, warlike music of the Berbers, and the rambunctious, warrior like women themselves. Their rolling, gentle tones did blend with both the Gnawa compositions and the Westerners input. After some time the bemused women withdrew, sensing the awe and distrust of the Gnawa instrumentalists. Songs began to coalesce, that would evolve into a couple of the songs that would make it into the Unledded album.

It was well past dark when Robert and Jimmy retired to their hotel room, tired but giddy, sweaty, the Gnawa's incense clinging to their clothes. Robert was wearing baggy shorts (still loves to show off those nice, muscular legs, that one) and an undyed cotton tunic, whereas Jimmy was wearing a vivid blue silk shirt and loose slacks. Jimmy pulled the singer to him as soon as the door closed, finding Robert just as eager and willing. He had missed his Robert so badly, had missed the music they made together, missed that tall, long-limbed body pressed against his.

Robert met his partner's need with his own, kissed Jimmy back with growing fire, and pulled back long enough to unbutton Jimmy's sweat-soaked shirt. "I really should grab a shower," snorted the guitarist in mirth. "I probably reek."

"No, I like it," murmured Robert as he trailed kisses along the shorter man's jawline and throat, that white, graceful neck. "Reminds me of shagging you senseless right after a show and 3 encores."

Jimmy growled, took hold of the hem of the singer's tunic, and pulled it over his head. "God, look at you," he said, in awe of this shining creature before him, just like the first time he undressed him at Pangbourne years and years ago. "Gorgeous as ever."

Robert chuckled at that as his hands went to unbutton Jimmy's trousers. "Older and wiser, maybe, but not like I was in '68." It was true that he had changed with the years, but he carried his years well and would continue to do so. Like a badge or a crown on a warrior king's noble head, striding forth confident in his prowess, comfortable in his skin. After removing Jimmy's clothes, the guitarist did the same for Robert, and Jimmy didn't know what he wanted to do first; drink in the sight of him, kiss him all over, fuck him hard, or try all of them at various times. 

Robert was fire, he was passion, he was love, golden hair spilling down shoulders wider than the untried youth he had once been. He carried more muscle mass and weight now, which added to his attractiveness. His hands were weathered with time and farm work, fine lines now showing up around his fine blue eyes. He pulled the dark-haired man to him, breathed him in, uncaring of how he'd sweated throughout the day. "You just look better all the time, you old magician," snickered Robert.

To Robert, he did. He looked better than he had in years, healthy, well-fed, happy. That body had been ravaged by years of grief and loss and drug use and self inflicted privation, starving himself at times, trying to punish himself, but it had bounced back. His raven hair had begun greying at the temples, which he'd been complaining about and vowed to dye it at some point, but it didn't detract from his appearance. That round, broad face would always look younger than his years, those lips would always be soft and kissable. 

They made their way to the bed, touching, holding, devouring, getting reacquainted with one another's bodies again. Jimmy pushed Robert onto his back and climbed atop him, slathering lube on his engorged, aching prick. Robert waited in anticipation as the guitarist pushed himself onto the head of Robert's enormous tool, and after a moment slid slowly down, until he was completely filled. Robert growled at the sensation, the extreme tightness, staring at pale form on top of him contrasting with the shiny ebony hair.

Jimmy waited as he adjusted to the dick buried deep inside him, then he moved slightly, which elicited a groan of pleasure from Robert who just wanted to nail him hard and heavy. At last Jimmy began moving, getting up a rhythm, making Robert's eyes roll back in his head. The singer cried out when Jimmy leaned forward to take a nipple in his teeth and tease it with his tongue, finally suckling it as he continued to move on top of him.

Robert's hands gripped Jimmy's ass as he thrust up into him, driving him further, making Jimmy moan in tortured pleasure. They fit together so well, why, Jimmy thought, did they do the stupid things they did to each other? This, what he was experiencing right now, was perfect. Moving in time with his husband, bodies and souls and hearts locked together. "Ah, Jimmy," Robert gasped out, pumping inside Jimmy faster and faster. "Love you, so much. I'm, I'm getting close."

"Not yet," groaned out Jimmy. "Not just yet." He continued to move his hips, yes, Robert was hitting that spot, that's what he needed, right there. "Ahh! Fuck me, fuuuuuck, yeah!" Jimmy screamed out, striping Robert's abdomen with hot come, his whole frame shuddering with the release. No sooner than Jimmy climaxed then Robert followed, filling Jimmy with his spunk, both of them now wrung out and spent. Jimmy caught his breath while still on top of the singer, then slid off to lay beside Robert. After a long, lazy kiss, Jimmy declared it was most definitely time for a shower. Robert giggled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy I felt it was time for loves, I love Unledded era Robert and Jimmy. How about you guys? Need more middle age rock god sex?


	4. Led Zeppelin Story Hour 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remembering days gone by.
> 
> Like when you find a magical oud player and things happen.
> 
> Don't put spells on yourselves, kids. Or if you do, I didn't tell you to. Lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's episode inspired by this video about the oud [clicky ](https://youtu.be/KA5VdzRHh-U)
> 
> Implied sex and threesomes and wtf is going on with the magick lol

Latter Days 3

4

1994  
Robert opened his eyes, looked blearily around, discovered they were in one of the small but nice hotels in Agadir, another favored spot of theirs. He yawned, naked as a babe, stretched, and made another discovery; namely that there was a young Berber man tangled in the sheets along with himself and Jimmy. Last night was quite a drunken extravaganza, apparently. The man wasn't very tall, but well-built--as the singer cocked his head to take him in, he could see well muscled biceps and long, straight dark hair, high cheekbones, smooth bronze skin. Robert slid quietly out of bed to grab some water as he was feeling parched, and the young bloke stirred. "Awake already?" he asked in heavily accented but serviceable English.

"I'm a much earlier riser than that one," Robert grinned and nodded his head toward Jimmy, who was still out, as yet blissfully asleep. He gulped down the whole glass. "Water? Fruit?"

"Yes, please, some water."

The blond man handed him a glass of water as things started to come back to him. He then padded across the room to retrieve a discarded robe and tied it around his tall frame, noticing the dark grey eyes of the Berber drinking him in appreciatively.

"Mmmph," emanated from the ebony-haired other occupant of the bed. He rolled onto his back, yawned, glanced over at the young man, then sat up, blinking his eyes. "Hello," he said in surprise. "Robert, since when did we have a stormy-eyed Berber?"

"Since last night, it turns out?" Chortled Robert. "You liked his oud playing."

"This wasn't you?" Jimmy wondered, while gesturing at Robert, who shook his head no.

"You really, really enjoyed my oud. Among other things," the Berber laughed.

"I remember now, your name was Zdan, wasn't it?" Robert said.

He nodded in affirmation, amusement on his smooth-shaven face. "I take it the hashish was a bit strong for you Westerners."

"Apparently," mumbled Jimmy as he fished through the bedclothes for his robe. Robert wordlessly handed one to the guitarist as if they were an old married couple. Well, actually, they were. Jimmy stood, yawned and stretched, then noticed the Arabic instrument laying on the desk. The oud was an ancient stringed instrument, thought by many to be a direct precursor to the modern guitar, and still played in the Middle East and North Africa. It has a deep, pear shaped body and short, fretless neck, and Zdan's oud was beautifully decorated in contrasting wood and filigree designs. "May I?" Jimmy asked. Zdan nodded, curious about what the British musician would do. Reverently he picked it up, brought it over to the bed where he sat and placed it in his lap. The Berber musician handed him a risha, a bamboo plectrum used to play the wooden instrument with, which was held in the fist with the part that strikes the strings sticking out between thumb and first finger. It felt awkward to Jimmy, but he'd observed oud players before and this was a stringed instrument and he was the guitar wizard, wasn't he?

He began to play, fumbling a bit with the short neck that had no frets and the bent-back tuning board, but he tried some of the Arabic progressions, and the ancient instrument began to sing. After a few minutes he paused, laughing.

"That was pretty good," praised Zdan. They talked about the tribesman getting up some more of his fellows to meet in the square around midday to try some things together. Zdan showed Jimmy some of their melodies, which dealt in the microtones unheard of in Western music, and encouraged the string magician to play some more.

Robert stood with mouth agape at the soundscape that Jimmy brought forth, music birthed in the misty dales of old Albion, then baked under the desert sun and turned loose to swirl with the tropic wind, to whip past you before wrapping you up in its cocoon. It rose and fell and sped up, and the singer closed his eyes for a while, then started to sing in Arabic:

The Devil is a man  
Who tells you things  
Pretty things, sweet things  
Sweeter than dates, sweeter than sugar

The Devil is a man  
A wizard, a magician  
Weaving nets around your heart  
And you help with the knots

The Devil is a man  
Who gave that stringed heart  
Back to you, with his own  
Beating, bleeding heart  
With a wicked smile

The Devil is a man  
Who tells you things  
He builds you up  
And tells you you're a king

And he means it…

Somehow the oud had been set aside, but the Music still swirled in their heads, around them, inside them, rising and falling, and they were in each other's arms, totally enchanted, heedless of the knowing, amused expression of Zdan. He gripped his beguiling oud and made for the door as Robert wasted no time fucking Jimmy raw right there as he sprawled before the singer. Those two needed the reaffirmation, the release, the tribeman realized. The power of hashish and the magic oud was overwhelming at times, and like Jimmy, he came from a long line of magicians. 

Hopefully they'd work through the spell Jimmy had put on the both of them by midday. 

Zdan smiled as he slipped on his clothes and let himself out of the room. He loved spreading the magic.

Just before midday the pair found themselves sweaty, covered in spunk, in one another's arms, the bed having been destroyed by seemingly insatiable fuckbeasts by all appearances, wondering what the hell just happened and if that Berber fellow was real or a figment of their fevered brains. But they felt reeeeally good.

It was well past midday when Robert and Jimmy made it to the square with satisfied looks on their shining, knowing faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was the magic in the oud, Jimmy, Zdan, Robert, the hashish??? Or some combination??? I don't know hahahaha
> 
> I'm a terrible person. 
> 
> Love me anyway!! Kudos, comments, ideas always welcome. What'd you guys think?


	5. Beside Firelight and Under Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magical sexy fun times for old rock stars. Music is magic. And vice versa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Himba are a fascinating African group. They're considered the most beautiful people in the world.
> 
> Of course Robert would hit it off with one. Course it IS Robert we're talking about.

Latter Days 3

5

Atlas Mountains, Present Day  
The singer and guitarist were left smiling at the recollections, and feeling lucky that they were able to travel and do such things, together. Jimmy snuggled into Robert's meaty frame, his own more modest one feeling the crisp night air. "I miss her," Jimmy murmured.

"I miss her too, Jimmurs. Terribly." The singer kissed his love on the cheek, both of them sad yet enjoying the scene before them: the musicians playing, others dancing, all laid out beside the burning fires and underneath the shining stars. "How is everyone so jubilant?" Robert wondered.

"I don't know, love," responded the guitarist.

"It is you, I think. Your magic," answered a voice. 

Both men looked up from where they were sitting on carpets laid out on the ground to find a woman standing beside them. She dropped down, sitting easily beside Jimmy. She was dark, her skin a deep shade of mahogany, her broad-cheeked face perfectly smooth and unblemished, her warm, nearly black eyes both playful and mysterious. Her hair was done in many thick braids and dressed in a mixture of red ochre and animal fat. She was dressed as the Moroccans were dressed, flowing robes and all, but she was from a different African region altogether.

"What is one of the Himba doing so far north, if I may ask?" wondered Jimmy. 

"My tribe lost their land and way of life. The droughts and fights between our country, Namibia, and Angola, left us devastated," she replied. "Yet I feel your sadness. You have enchanted folks tonight, with your magic, despite all that."

"I have no magic," Robert countered. "Jimmy does, I think, but not me. I have nothing but my anger and loss, now." He still ached with the loss of the child that could have been, and the hole that Scarlett had left in their lives.

"No, you are both wizards, medicine men of your people," she insisted. "Wizards sometimes don't like women, only men. With you, it is both, I believe."

The pair stared at her. "Who are you?" questioned the guitarist. 

"You can call me Oja. You're the Englishmen the Tuareg go on about. What is it they say--the Golden Traveler and The Musician?" she smiled. "Which one is Jimmy and which one is Robert?"

"I'm Robert, he's Jimmy," the singer smiled back, his genuine, dazzling smile.

"You have made some of my folk happy," Oja nodded toward some of the Himba merrily dancing with the others. "I would return the favor." She leaned toward the silver-haired man and planted a soft, gentle kiss on his lips. As he gazed at her in surprise, she said softly, "I need to borrow your beloved Robert, medicine man. Let me help him." 

He knew Robert would have her that night, and the jealous, possessive nature of his dark heart lashed at him. But then perhaps she could do for him what he himself could not, and he'd vowed there wouldn't be a repeat of the aftermath of Bonzo's death, both of them struggling alone, he the one who'd left Robert to falter and feel abandoned. All this marched across his lined yet beautiful face. "You both need healing, but he is the most..ah…" she struggled with the correct word in English. "Stricken? Sick?"

"Both would be apt," Jimmy spoke, barely above a whisper. 

"My mother tended the sacred fires of my tribe. One magician to another," Oja spoke.

"Now wait a minute," Robert began, miffed he was being talked about like he wasn't there. "I can't believe this is coming from me, but I don't want a toss in the hay with another bird. I've lost.." he couldn't tell this woman, wise or not, his deepest pain. "Anyway, a woman I adore just walked outta my life so I don't feel like--"

"Robert," the Himba woman interrupted him. "Come." She held her hand out to him. As traditional Moroccan music played joyously, after several long moments he, as if in a trance, took the proffered hand and she pulled him to his feet. 

"Where are we going?" Robert asked.

"To my quarters here in town. I make beaded jewelry and tell folks' fortunes and I make music."

"A medicine woman."

"Indeed, Golden One."

Robert snorted at that. "A Broken One, more like."

"You can't find out a metal's strength or usefulness until it's cleansed, heated and melted into its purest form," the lady responded. They reached the little bungalow the refugee was calling her own, and she produced a key from the layers of cloth that enveloped her tall, rangy frame and unlocked it.

"You're like some African Jedi," he snickered as he followed her inside. She laughed. 

Oja flicked on the lights, after once again noting that her mother used to tend the sacred fires.

"I watched the fire that burned so low," Robert crooned without thinking.

"Keep singing," she encouraged as she began unwrapping herself from her robes. He did, all the while watching as she was uncovered at last, now wearing only her traditional Himba beads and leg guards. His shirt and trousers soon followed, leaving him bare and for once, feeling somewhat vulnerable. He wasn't even sure at his age and emotional state he'd be able to rise to the occasion. She read his train of thought as she took his hand and led him to the little bed. "My magic will make sure you can...perform," she chortled. "I think you won't need it, though."

After drinking in the tall, lean, full-breasted figure now pressed against him, things were indeed going as they should. "Well, I'll be buggered," he mused, then kissed her.

***

[The Himba](http://fav.me/dctch5u)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page and Plant, doing what they do best, reaching out. Touching people. Groping people, lol 
> 
> Loves, thoughts, perverse fantasies always welcome! Thanks in advance for reading and responding!


	6. Visions and Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic is in the airrrr...
> 
> Robert sees something he doesn't expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert still getting sex even old as shit lol.
> 
> St. Bonzo.

Latter Days 3

6

A man came toward him, with an easy, confident walk, greying shoulder-length dark brown hair, goatee with flecks of grey, an older but hearty and robust man approached. Thick, muscular arms, blue-brown eyes surrounded by crow's feet from years of laughter, he stopped when he reached Robert and smiled, a familiar smile with crooked teeth but in a face much more weathered than he remembered. "John!" Robert exclaimed. "Is that you? It can't be, you're old, you're my age!"

"Yeah, it's me, Percy," Bonzo replied in that soft, unassuming voice the singer hadn't heard in decades. "In some other possibility, some other timeline. C'mere," and he grabbed Robert in a squeezing bear hug, one of those soul to soul hugs that the blond man had missed for so long. 

He couldn't help it, he burst into tears when the drummer released him. This was what should've been, Bonzo should've grown old with them making music and raising his family and farming and being his happy, blustery self. "What's all this, then?" The drummer asked.

"Bonz, Bonz, it's you, after all this time! Look at you, you're old!" Robert laughed amid his tears. His dear mate, his old chum, brother-in-arms, bandmate, was here before him.

"You're old, you wanker," John chuckled. "What's with the tears?"

"I miss you, you fucking great geezer. I miss you and Karac."

"We're fine, Rob. You know this."

"And, and the baby…"

"She's good, too, you know," John said, more gently this time. "I'm what might have been, come to tell you what is and what's gotta be."

"No, no," Robert shook his own greying curls, sobbing at this knowledge. "I don't care if this is real or not, I won't go back to a world without you and my lost children in it."

"Don't be daft," the drummer laid a bear paw of a hand on Robert's shoulder. "You suffered loss, but look at what you've gotten, what you've accomplished. You've had the love of a lifetime, with more'n one person. You've raised a buncha kids inta good people. You've made a shit ton of cash doing what you love an' doing it your own way! And you're gonna spend the rest of your days with the people you love best. Silly cunt, stop your bellyaching and love that equally silly assed wizard while you can, you both are fucking stupid for one another."

Robert grabbed Bonzo to hug him fiercely again, weeping like a baby, the pain and self-torment pouring out of him freely now. "Bonzo, it hurts, I don't wanna carry this around anymore."

"Then don't, mate," Bonzo patted Robert's broad back. "Let it out. Heal. You got more children to raise, after all. Me and Karac an' your daughter will be here when it's time for you, but that time ain't for a good while. Now go on. Get!"

Robert found himself in a tiny bed in an unknown cottage in the dark, his lined face wet with tears, his breath hitching. When he calmed, he glanced over to discover Oja beside him, naked as he, sitting up and regarding him quietly. "It wasn't a dream," she spoke before the unuttered question. "You had a spirit journey, I think."

"It was--it was so real," Robert breathed out. "I could see and touch him, talk to him.."

"Someone who's passed over to the other side?"

"Yeah," the singer said, his mind still full of wonder.

"And now how do you feel?"

The singer blinked at her, for the moment oblivious to this dark-skinned, luscious beauty beside him, her large, round breasts bobbing with her gestures and knowing brown eyes piercing his very being. He felt as if a lot of the weight that had been bearing down on him had been lifted, and he felt hope for the first time in ages, and love. "I feel...well, good, actually. Not perfect, but some better than before."

"I told you I came from magick," she smiled at him. "And you have your own magick, too."

"What is it with me and magicians?" Robert grinned, then leaned over to kiss the Himba woman. She kissed him back, threaded her long arms around his neck and purred. 

It was morning when he awoke again, the light shining through the bedroom window, bathing him in its warm glow. He yawned and discovered his bedmate gone, but heard her humming in the bathroom. He remembered the vision of Bonzo he'd had, and wondered at the things he'd said to him. He had more to experience and do in life, it seems. And more kids to take care of? His kids, or someone else's? He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, then got out of bed.

Oja appeared, went to the battered dresser to pull out something to wear. She was dressed as her tribe traditionally did, topless, a wrapped skirt one of her few articles of clothing, bangles on her wrists and decorative leg guards, and beaded necklaces completing her ensemble. Robert could see why they were called the most beautiful people in the world.

"You like my normal gear, do you?" She asked as she laid out fabrics. "In the middle of town I get raised eyebrows at times. Anywhere else pays little mind to us Himba being ourselves, but I try not to make waves." She looked at him, appraising his strong frame. "There are Tuareg that have grown children that say they weren't born when their folk met you. How many years are you?"

"Let's just say older than 70," he snorted, then began rummaging for his clothes.

"You carry those years on you," she mused. "Many years, many experiences. But it looks good. You make it look good."

"I'm trying to work out if that's a compliment or not," the man guffawed. "How old are you, wise woman?"

"I have seen 46 years," she answered as she began wrapping herself in robes. 

"You don't look older than say, early thirties," Robert marvelled.

"Our people don't wear with age the way a lot of others do. Some say it's our skin and hair treatment, some say it's in our blood. Maybe it's a bit of both."

"I'm glad the West doesn't know about this, they'd pillage and bottle and sell it," the singer spoke as he donned his own clothes.

Robert found his husband haggling with a street vendor over a bracelet, Jimmy finally accepting the price and receiving his prize. "You're up already?" Robert quipped without preamble.

"Yes, look, I got us matching bracelets," the guitarist handed him the just purchased trinket, then held up his wrist to show he was wearing the other one.

"Why thank you, love," he said, then slipped it on. They melted into the people in the streets, their hands meeting and clasping out of habit. Nobody here cared, which was a source of comfort and relief for them. 

"You seem...different. Not as down," Jimmy said.

"Yeah, that wise woman helped." Robert fell silent as they walked unhurriedly around the town. "Jimmy, I saw--"

"Bonzo? I saw him too," Jimmy interjected. "He talked to me...I don't know if it was real, but it made me think."

"Jimmy, I think one of us is gonna have another child," Robert spoke solemnly. 

The guitarist stopped, causing Robert to halt as well. "At our age? And with no woman to do so with?"

"Bonzo told me things, I dunno if it was just in my head or a dream or if it was real, but somehow, everything's gonna be all right. I still have that ache, but it's not as bad."

"Me too," Jimmy murmured. "Robert, I think it's time we went home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was moving and not disrespectful or anything, but I wanted something, a catalyst, to smack Robert to healing lol.
> 
> I don't know, I kinda like the idea of St. Bonzo lol.
> 
> Kudos, suggestions, pizza, loves, etc welcome@

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love kudos, comments, links to Led Zeppelin videos, pics of Robert Plant's butt, etc etc lol.


End file.
